i feel every single failure

Every single missed opportunity

Like bricks they crush my chest as I lay 10 feet in the ground

The reaper wears my face

as well as the brick layer


Just A Regular Cringe Date Story

I went on a date today (I’m writing this at 11:00 PM).

I never know how people are going to react to seeing me in real life. It was a girl I met on Tinder. The first thing on my Tinder profile is my height as to not surprise the ladies when they meet me and notice I am as tall as a middle-schooler.

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This is not an introvert’s world

Here, I complain about how hard it is for an introvert to interface with the world.


Pet peeve of mine: Motivational platitudes/fake enthusiasm/how to be successful videos and/or blogs. (no shade because I follow some here.)

But that is just a personal thing tied to the rest of the stuff I’m going to talk about. I still respect them and read them. But anyway, what I mean by “This is not an introvert’s world” is that you need to like people. You can’t stay in a shell and be successful. You need to be able to woo people and you cannot operate by yourself.

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What I Consider Success For Myself

I’m an avid reader. I’m always thinking about interesting settings and characters for possible books. This started young, and now I’ve taken that mindset to look at myself as a character.

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A Story of Introversion

I can feel my hands.

As I pace nervously in my bathroom I can feel the grooves in my hands like sandpaper. I rub them together to nullify the sensation but the cold-sweat on my palms only magnify my uneasiness. My hands glide against each other hot, wet and brackish. I am thoroughly out of it.

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Just one more responsibility

I’m writing this at 4:33 AM in the morning because I need to. It is pitch black in my room, it is a bit cold this spring due to global warming, and I am not tired at all. However, I did wake up at 1:00 PM in the afternoon today. I have class in the morning but I know I will have a bunch to do after class and I will never get to this so…let me introduce myself.

The name’s Dale.  It’s a simple name but incredibly drab, and I wish it didn’t sound like the name of a white low wage  office worker, or like a chipmunk.

Looking past that, I like talking about the zeitgeist, what’s happening in my contained world, and the Black experience. I like expressing my opinions on these. This blog will basically function as a peephole into my mind’s inner-city sidewalk. I don’t claim to know much, but if you can get past how deadpan my humor can be sometimes I hope I can somehow entertain you with relatable pieces  about social justice, anxiety, and Nicki Minaj’s butt.

Now that you know I have anxiety, we are friends now.